


Dating Doyles in Uptown Swing, Downtown Doom

by lalalalalawhy



Category: The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Dating Doyles, F/M, Heavy Drinking, Meet-Cute, Soulmates, lindy hop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:19:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3302186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalalalalawhy/pseuds/lalalalalawhy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s time to send the little ones to dreamland and set your radio’s dial to “spooky.” Bolt the doors, lock your windows, and steel yourself for mysterious suspense as we take you… Beyond Belief.</p>
<p>Meet Frank Doyle and Sadie Parker, only one of whom is the toast of the upper crust. She, a socialite bored to tears with a secret past, he, a penniless cretin on the run from his life of Van Helsing-ing for the Church.</p>
<p>Equally miserable, they sink deep into despair, hoping there might be someone out there, waiting…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Oh, Lord. I must be strong now. I don't belong now, in this world anymore."

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ["Dating Doyles in Uptown Swing, Downtown Doom: The Playlist"](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/96665) by lalalalalawhy. 



> Lots of angst (and a content warning for anxiety, depression, and panic disorders) for Sadie Parker and Frank Doyle before they meet each other.

Sadie was tired. No!  _Bored_  and tired. And sad, and sick of it all. Bored and tired and exhausted and sick of it all, to death. 

 _To death!_  she thought,  _ha!_

She knew more about death now than any living person had any right to. She knew what death really meant: that even in death there was no guarantee of peace.  _There's never a guarantee of peace_ , she thought,  _there's nowhere I can go where anyone can understand_. If only she could believe in anything anymore. 

"Sadie, sweetness?" Her father's voice broke her train of thought. "What do we always say about heaving those dreadful sighs at the dinner table?"

Sadie merely gazed at him, morosely.

"Sadie, we are having such a  _nice_  supper," her mother said. Mrs. Parker's voice was saccharine: completely and utterly false. Her mother had never been kind, but she was a wonderful actress. "Can anything we say or do convince you to be in good spirits?"

"Perhaps some good spirits?" Sadie asked, hopefully raising her glass. Lucy, sitting across the table, smirked. 

"Sadie Parker! You know we do not drink in this household." Her mother's voice lowered. "It brings on your, erm,  _afflictions_."

Sadie hadn't told her parents that she could see ghosts all the time, and not just when she was drinking. Sadie hadn't told her parents much since they sent her away. 

Sadie heaved another sigh. "May I be excused, then, please?"

"You most certainly may not," said her father. "Now then, dear, what were you saying about the soiree?"

Sadie suppressed a sigh and let the conversation wash over her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from [A Prayer by Madeleine Peyroux](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhY4m6TFVmM)


	2. "Don't get around much anymore."

"Frank! Frank Doyle! I know you're in there, open up!" Pterodactyl Jones knocked even harder, his fist threatening to split the door's rotted timbers.

"I already told you, I am not interested in any life insurance! Your time would best be spent knocking down other peoples' doors!"

"Frank, you know I don't sell insurance and even if I did you know I wouldn't sell it to the likes of you. You'd better open this door before it falls in on its own." Jones looked at Harvey, his partner and ghostly pterodactyl, who nodded back to him.

"You wanna give it a try, Harv?" Jones asked, and Harvey answered with an ear splitting shriek.

"Okay! Okay, okay," Frank said, opening the door. "No need to disturb the neighbors."

"Neighbors? Frank, you squat in an abandoned church what butts up against the river. The folks likely to be around here all wear concrete shoes, if you catch my drift. What kind of neighbors do you think we'd disturb?"

Frank leveled a look at Jones. "The kind I'd rather not disturb, thank you very much," he said and ushered Jones and Harvey into the tiny sanctuary.

"Frank, you're the deadliest hunter the Church has ever employed. You have staked every vampire, exorcised every demon, and un-possessed every possession you've ever come across. You're the kinda guy the world chews up and spits back out. What are you so afraid of?" Jones asked.

"Jonesy, I'll tell you the God's honest truth. I'm afraid of _absolutely everything_." Frank knocked back the drink he had been holding in his hand. "I'm afraid I'll be press-ganged back into the diocese's service against my will. I'm afraid of what I might do if I am. I'm afraid of the things that I've fought against and I'm afraid of the things I haven't. I'm afraid of the dark and I'm afraid of the light. And mostly, at the moment, I'm afraid I have run out of both liquor and money and thus cannot offer you anything to drink and I also cannot run out to buy more."

Frank considered his fate for a moment, staring at the empty glass in his hand.

"This is literally the thing of which I was the most afraid. And lo! It has come to pass!"

Jones looked at his friend. "Frank, you are as disheveled as I've ever seen you. You have your sleeves rolled up, for god's sake, and your tie! The knot is looser than the purse strings of a drunken gambler!"

Frank sank to the ground and rubbed the swirled lines of scars and tattoos on his forearms absentmindedly. "Would that I were a drunken gambler, Jonesy," he said. "For then I would at least have a drink in my hand." He hung his head and rubbed his hands over his hair.

Harvey screeched sympathetically.

"Frank, when was the last time you went outside?"

"I don't believe I know an 'outside,'" Frank said.

"Sure you do, Frank. Sunshine in the daytime, moonlight at night. Dames is out there, and cars, and dogs." Jones gestured, trying to communicate the enormity of the outside world to his depressed friend.

Frank squinted at him. "Dogs, you say? Sounds vaguely familiar..."

Jones continued, "Dogs and rats and trees whose branches go all the way up to the sky and whose roots go all the way to the ground."

Frank considered this. "Nearly there..."

"Dames, Frank! Picture shows! Sidewalks!" Jones was getting more exasperated.

Harvey screeched. "Right, Harv, liquor stores!"

"Ohhhh! Yes, outside! I remember now. It's all coming back to me. Yes. The last time I went outside was... last week perhaps. Possibly the week before that. Surely no more than three weeks ago."

Jones sighed.

"Get up, Frank. We're going to the automat and get you a real meal, then we're going to get you a drink."

"Capital idea, Jonesy! I couldn't have said it better myself!" Frank already looked better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from ["Don't Get Around Much Anymore," ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJLMvH92KjQ)linked version by Nat King Cole.


	3. "The sea, the sky, my heart and I, we're all an indigo hue."

Lucy knocked on her sister's door after their parents had gone to bed. 

"Oh, hello Lucy," Sadie said, looking up from staring at her hands. She did a lot of staring, these days.

"Hey Sade," Lucy said, and didn't ask what Sadie had been doing. Lucy smiled conspiratorially. She was always happier when their mother wasn't around and she could wear her trousers and waistcoats without fear of reprisal. "I brought you something."

Lucy pulled a flask from a pocket inside her jacket. 

"Oh, Lucy. You are the dearest of dears," Sadie said. "Pour two. Oh, and one for yourself."

Lucy poured the drinks. "I sure am glad you're back, Sade," she said. "It was awfully lonely without you."

"Now Lucy, both you and I know that's not true," Sadie said. Lucy had never wanted for feminine company. 

"Well, it is true that I missed you," Lucy said, as Sadie knocked back her drinks. "What was it like, you know, where you were?"

"Oh, you know. Exactly as you'd expect and more dreadful than you can possibly imagine." Sadie drank her third and fourth glasses. 

"Try me." Lucy took a sip.

"If you insist." Sadie thought for a moment. "How much do you know about Expressionism?"

"In art?" Lucy asked. "A bit."

"Splendid," Sadie said. "Have you had the opportunity to see a lithograph of the Scream by Edvard Munch? I believe a few copies would have made it to the city." Sadie didn't volunteer from where she got that information. Lucy nodded.

"Wonderful. Now, I'm sure you're familiar with the composition of the piece, the person standing, hands on face, screaming?" Lucy nodded again. "The figure is standing on a bridge, over a river, framed by a sky. Well, in the original, the sky above is lit up with the most devastating shades of orange, red, and turquoise, splashed over the horizon like violence. The river roils with shades of the deepest indigo. And the face, the face is pale and screaming. Screaming with desperate, unknowable, abject horror." Sadie looked far away.

"Go on," Lucy prompted after a moment.

Sadie blinked several times. "My dear, I'm so sorry, I have lost my train of thought. Let's not dwell on what's past and gone. How are you? How is Alice? The Roosevelts are such a lovely family."

Sadie and Lucy talked and drank well into the evening. Eventually, the color returned to Sadie's cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from ["It's a Blue World" by Ella Fitzgerald](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AYDi9MB2R4Y).


	4. It's been gone since that blood red sun went down

"PJ, that was just what the doctor ordered. I commend you on your excellent taste in diners! Specifically, in finding one that improbably sells liquor! Now, does Harvey need anything to eat or more for me to drink?"

From the roof overhead, Harvey let out a screech, declining the invitation. 

"Frank, we need to talk," Jones said. "You're in a bad way." 

"Only when I'm sober, Jonesy my boy, and, thanks to you, I am experiencing a temporary reprieve."

"See, that's what I'm talking about. You're like a shield: always deflecting. These are mean streets, Frank, even for a couple of private dicks like us. Now me? I've got Harv. We do okay for ourselves. He takes care of me, I take care of him. But you. I worry about you."

"Why worry, Jones? Anyone can see that I'm just fine! The Church hasn't sent anyone to my doorstep in weeks, I haven't had to go toe-to-toe with a hell-beast in months, my tattoos only glow during the second full moon of the month, which is literally once in a blue moon. Plus you promised this night would end in more liquor! I am walking on easy street, my friend! No crushing existential terror or abject quaking fear striking the very core of me to be found anywhere."

"You may be able to fool a dame with that fast talk and easy smile, buddy, but you've forgotten who you're dealing with. You're like a freshly washed window: I can see right through you."

"I can't imagine what you're talking about."

"Frank, don't pretend like you're a double lateral amputee: you are not all right."

"Jonesy, you need only let me know how I can convince you otherwise. Please be sure to include liquor in this equation."

"Come out with me and Harv tomorrow night. We're heading uptown. We'll do some drinking, some dancing, maybe find a couple'a nice dames to smile at. How's that sound?"

"Peej, you had me at 'drinking.' You had me at 'drinking.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from ["How Long Blues" by Ray Charles.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=loKscILy_9I)


	5. Two steps, we're gonna have 'em all

Sadie was awoken by the ringing of a telephone. It was strange, she had not realized she had a telephone, let alone that anyone knew the phone number. 

"H-hello, yes, hello?" she said into the receiver, rubbing sleep from her eyes. 

"Sadie! Sadie, you're back!"

"Hello, yes, who is this?" Sadie said again.

"Sadie! Sadie, it's Donna! You're back and I have  _so much_ to tell you! And you have so much to tell me, I'm sure!"

"Don't be so sure," Sadie muttered, under her breath.

"What was that?" Donna asked.

"Why, Donna, it is simply wonderful to hear from you. I am indeed back."

"I know! Eeeee! We are going to have  _so much fun_ ," Donna practically squealed. Sadie could practically hear the mimed hug over the phone line. She smiled to herself - she had missed Donna's exuberance. 

"Oh, Donna. I _have_ missed you."

"And I you, Sadie! Tell you what," Donna's voice was suddenly serious. "We're going out tonight."

Sadie took a breath to begin making her excuses, but Donna didn't allow for any time for that. 

"Listen, Sadie, you and me, we are going to go together up to the swingingest juke joint in town. I've been going since you've been gone, and it's just the best. There's dancing, people laughing, the best music you've ever heard... oh, it's going to be great. Say you will, Sadie, say you will. I'll be over in a taxi around eight to pick you up." Donna was practically singing with excitement.

Sadie's head reeled, but it often did when dealing with Donna. Her best friend was better than liquor in some ways.

_Better than liquor?_  she thought to herself.  _I_ have _missed her._  


"Oh, Donna, that sounds wonderful. I'll be ready for you." Sadie put the receiver down and smiled to herself.

She was going out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from [Darktown Strutter's Ball by Jimmy Dorsey and His Orchestra.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxQVkLtQRKA)


	6. "Who threw the whisky in the well?"

Frank and Jones walked the city streets while Harvey patrolled above.  

"You be on the lookout for trouble, ya hear, Harv?" Jones said. Harvey screeched a reply. 

"Frank, you listen up and you listen good. We are going to have a fun time tonight. This place we're going, the Savoy? This is Harlem's hottest spot. They've got hot jazz and cold drinks and dancing that'll make your feet feel funny just to look at."

"I'm afraid I don't dance much, Jonesy. I've never been one to cut a proverbial rug."

"Well before the end of the night you'll be chopping left and right with feet made from blades."

Frank contemplated that for a moment before deciding to let the tortured metaphor pass without comment. It was a crisp night, right on the cusp between winter and spring. The earlier cloud cover had mostly cleared, and a few brave stars were peeking their faces through. It would be almost enjoyable, were he able to relax. But Frank had learned the hard way that if one saw monsters in every shadow one passed, one was right about half the time.

"Frank," Jones broke into Frank's jumpy contemplation of the night's terrors, "you seem overly tense."

"Jonesy, I'm no more tense than I am sober, which is to say  _completely and totally._  You promised me liquor?"

"Ah, that's right. I almost forgot." Jones withdrew a flask from an inner pocket and gave it to his friend. 

"How does one forget... liquor...? You know what, never mind. I am asking when I could be drinking," Frank said, and took a swig, and suddenly the air lit up with music. "Wow, PJ, what is this stuff? It sounds like the night sky just sang its approval!"

"No, Frank, we're here!"

Frank saw the sign announcing that had indeed arrived at the Savoy Ballroom. They walked into the ballroom (well, Harvey flew), skirting the coat check. Jones was seldom without his trench coat, and Frank was wearing the best suit he owned, a striped number that was almost in season. The strains of music that had greeted them on the sidewalk grew ever louder as they ascended the stairs to the ballroom on the second floor. 

Frank had always enjoyed music, in an abstract way. Over the last decade, though, he had been limited exclusively to hymns, both as a survival technique (some sung incantations are surprisingly powerful against demons from the further flung circles of Hell) and as a direct result of his limited interactions with the outside world. The music that was carrying over the dance floor, though, that was music like he'd never heard before. The drums were beating in swing time, much like a telltale heartbeat. The horns were blowing, the beat was beating, and in the center of it all, a beautiful, magnetic woman with a voice like...

It wasn't like an angel. Frank had heard the celestial music of the spheres, had called upon the heavenly chorus for assistance while fighting one hell-beast or another, and this wasn't anything like that. It was like what people who hadn't heard angels sing said angels singing was like. 

_Aha!_  Frank thought,  _her voice is incredibly human_. It swam and dipped, eddied and flowed with a beautiful jazz beat. She wrapped the melody around her finger and spooled it out slowly. Her voice washed over him and, for a moment, Frank forgot to be paranoid, forgot the fear that had clenched his heart at every moment for years. 

And then the song was over. The singer left the stage as the band took up an instrumental number. Frank sighed.  _Nothing gold can stay,_  he thought, and headed for the punch table. 

Frank ladled some punch into his cup, took a sip, and made a face. "Nobody ever puts enough liquor in the punch, _"_  he muttered to himself. He brought out his flask and tipped some of his precious gift into the drink. It was a pity to dilute it, but it would be an even greater pity to not be able to drink the liquor already ruined by the punch. 

"Oh, honey," a voice said behind him. "I'll have some of what you're having." 

"A woman of fine tastes!" he exclaimed, turning around, and then starting as he realized just who was standing behind him. 

Luckily, the woman from onstage was gazing pointedly at his flask and not at his face as Frank's eyes bugged. "Yes, yes of course!" he said, tipping his flask into her glass. "It would be my absolute pleasure."

"Thank you, doll," she said. "The name's Ella, and you have made my evening that much better." 

"And you!" exclaimed Frank, "You sing like... like..."

"An angel?" Ella asked, rolling her eyes.

"Never," said Frank. "Angelsong is basically weaponized noise. You sing like you have a symphony inside you."

Ella turned to look him in the eye. "That is one of the best compliments I've heard, and I have men flattering me all night every night. Thank you." She raised her glass.

"To you and to jazz," Frank said, raising his glass. "I may still be terrified, but I had no idea how much of the world I'd missed."

"To you," Ella said, "tall, dark, and giving out whiskey. Cheers!" They both drank deeply. 

"I like you, so I'll give you my best advice," she said. "Marry up." 

"Not what I was expecting, but I'll certainly take it into consideration!" Frank said.

There was a story there, Frank was sure, but he was polite enough not to ask. He also refrained from asking who could want to marry a broken soul whose only vocation was demon hunting and whose only emotion was "terrified bunny." Questions would only distract from the drinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from ["Who Threw the Whiskey In the Well" by Lucky Millinder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SfZ4nUZ1r2w).


	7. "You meet the nicest people in your dreams"

Sadie lost enthusiasm for going out practically as soon as she hung up the phone with Donna. By the time she began getting ready, her mood was as black as the night sky, which, due to city lights and a low cloud cover, was actually not that black at all. 

Her mood was black as ink. No, a raven. No, a spider! No, she had it! Her mood was as black as her favorite dress, which was very black and very lacy indeed. She pulled it out and held it up to her body, gazing at herself in the mirror. Sadie scowled. 

She put the dress back. She was too upset to even wear her favorite dress.

Instead, from out of the closet, she pulled one of her grandmother's kimonos. She hadn't looked at it in years, and it was even more colorful than she remembered. Splashes of ruby red, emerald green, and royal blue silk brocade were overlaid with intricately embroidered patterns, crowded with flowers and birds and leaves. It was topped with its crowning glory: a luscious white fur collar. It looked like springtime.

Sadie ran her hands over the kimono, and remembered her grandmother's voice saying, " _Shunsho ikkoku, atai senkin_."  _Half an hour in a spring evening is worth a thousand gold pieces,_ Sadie thought to herself. She would most likely be out for longer than a half an hour, and it was only barely spring, with snow still fallen fresh on the ground. But as she dressed herself in her grandmother's kimono, she could possibly, just possibly survive a night on the town.

As promised, Donna met her in a taxicab, honey, right on time. "Savoy, please!" Donna said to the driver as they pulled away with tires squealing. She handed Sadie a flask and said, "I thought you might want a little refreshment on the way."

Sadie smiled again. At least the evening was off to a promising start.

* * *

Once she and Donna had arrived at the the ballroom, though, Sadie was back to feeling out of place. Donna was tearing it up on the dance floor with several gentlemen, song after song. Sadie had posted herself at a table in the corner, enjoying the flask and the music more than anything. She sighed, but it wasn't completely out of despair this time.

All of a sudden, a winged demon-creature landed right in front of her. Sadie nearly started, until she realized she could see through the beast. 

"Now then, Mister Ghost Demon, you nearly made me spill my drink," she told the creature. "And then you would have been very sorry indeed."

"Sorry if he's disturbing you, miss," a scruffy gentleman in a trench coat sidled up to her table. "Normally folks can't see old Harv here."

"Well, I certainly can see Mister Harv, and he appears to be trying to eat my friend's lipstick. Can you ask him to stop?" Trench coat shooed the creature away from Donna's purse.

Just then, Sadie paused. She looked the new gentleman up and down, and said, "Now wait, just one moment. You seem to be alive, and corporeal, and yet you too can see this ghostly Mister Harv?"

"Yes ma'am. The name's Pterodactyl Jones, and this here's my partner Harvey. He's a pterodactyl, and I'm a Private Eye. Together, we're the best team around. And I'm alive as the day I was born, even if Harvey isn't."

"But, excuse me if this is rude,  _how_  can you see him? I..."  _I thought I was the only one,_ thought Sadie, but she said, "I mean, how did you meet?"

"Ah, well, the Sight runs in my family, you see. When I was just a young gumshoe working the mean streets of Manhattan, I had a case that took me to the Natural History Museum after hours. Harvey here helped me corner the perp, and we've been partners ever since."

"Why, Mr. Jones! It is as though the scales have fallen from my eyes. How could I have known all along that they were dinosaur scales?"

"Oh, Harvey isn't a dinosaur. He's a pterodactyl, which is technically a subgroup within the order pterosaura. It means 'winged finger' in the original Greek."

"I see," Sadie said. "I assume he has scales? Or rather, had?"

"Possibly! He may also have had feathers, or, well, pycnofibers! Some pterosaurs had hair-like filaments that may be a sort of proto-feather."

"Well, Harvey! Were you the fuzziest flying lizard of the Cretaceous Era?"

Harvey's ghost preened his possibly protofeathers.

"How wonderful! I suppose I had once had fearsome flying lizard protofeather scales on my eyes, and they have since fallen to the ground and are laying there in ectoplasmatic bliss." Sadie swept her hand toward the ground.

Jones looked down. "I don't see anything, miss."

"No, those are simply an extended metaphor that got sidetracked by a discussion of recent paleontological scholarship. Forget them." Sadie waved her hand, dismissing all imaginary scales and protofeathers alike. "But you, my dear man, you can see a flying dinosaur who has just flown up to hang from the chandelier!" Sadie looked up at Harvey. He was still there, and waving a finger claw at her. "That makes me so happy I could kiss you!"

"Oh, no, miss. Keep your lips where I can see 'em and nobody gets hurt," Jones said, backing up in a hurry. "Dames is trouble, even if you seem like you're one of the nice ones. Keep away from dames, I always say, and they keep away from me."

"Quite," Sadie said, and finished her drink. "Thank you all the same, Mr. Jones. You don't know how much this has meant to me." 

Sadie looked up as a new song began, and it seemed as though the words were written into the music: _I am not alone_. This funny little man with his funny little dinosaur ( _sorry, pterosaur_ , she thought to herself) had given her proof, real proof, once and for all, that she hadn't imagined her grandparents' ghosts, that she wasn't "unhinged from reality," as her mother was so fond of saying, and that it wasn't just a side effect of the alcohol. Well, that, she had suspected, was her mother's fabrication from the start. After all, she had been seeing ghosts since before she could remember, and she had only been drinking since... well, the spirits versus  _spirits_  timeline was a bit muddled, but the ghosts had certainly shown up first.

The song finished and Donna came off the dance floor. She nearly skipped over to the punch table.  

"Oh my goodness, Sadie! I have just had a dance with the most wonderful creature! His name is Dave! Do you see him, over there?" Donna pointed, blushing a bit. Actually, that was odd. Sadie hadn't noticed how pale Donna been all evening. Her blush stood out rosy red against her cheeks.

Sadie nodded, giving Dave a little wave. "Darling, that's wonderful! Are you feeling quite all right? Your color seems off."

"Oh! Oh yes! Oh that's right! I haven't told you! Oh, Sadie, I have simply the most exciting news to share."

Sadie quirked an eyebrow. "More exciting than our dear Mr. Dave?" Sadie remembered herself. "Actually, I have something awfully exciting to share as well." 

"You go first," Donna said. "Mine might take some explaining." 

"Well, all right," Sadie said, "although mine might be even more surprising. You see that gentleman over there?" She pointed at Jones, who was at that moment shoving cookies in his pockets while Harvey acted as a lookout.

"The one with the winged dinosaur companion?" Donna asked.

The Parker women had always prided themselves in their unflappability: her grandmother's ghost often told tales of rescuing Sadie's mother from drowning after she stumbled over the rail of the ship that brought them across the ocean. Sadie's mother herself could stare down a bear and deny its existence to its face, and Lucy had become a well-known card shark and was banned from several less-than-reputable institutions. It took quite a bit to surprise a Parker woman, but Donna had managed it. Sadie's mouth jaw dropped wide as she turned to face her friend. 

"You... you can see Harvey?" Sadie asked. 

"Oh yes, they're Savoy regulars. Jonesy's dancing is nothing to write home about, but it's always fun to see Harvey enjoying the music."

"Why, Donna, I... all this time... I didn't know... you can  _see_  him?" Sadie seemed distressed.

"Oh, Sadie, darling, don't be upset! I know ghostly encounters was always your thing, but I've been able to see ghosts ever since I became a vampire."

Sadie found herself speechless for an unprecedented second time in one evening. "Donna! You knew? All along?" Sadie's brain engaged with the second part of her friend's statement. "And... you've... become a vampire?"

"Yes! Truth be told I don't feel much different. I was already staying out all night dancing most nights of the week, vampire has just given me an excuse for sleeping in regularly!"

"And... and now you see ghosts?"

"Yes. And I'm sorry that I couldn't for all those years. I know it distressed you when we were younger. And then your parents sent you away and there was no one for me to share it with."

Sadie shook her head in disbelief. She thought she had been so clever, hiding her encounters with the dead, but that was clearly not the case. She thought she had been all alone with her _affliction_ ( _but no, that's my mother's word,_ she thought). Sadie looked at her friend with her new, recently scale-free eyes.  She noted that, although Donna's skin was a little paler than it had been previously, her eyes still lit up with the _joie de vivre_ Sadie knew so well. 

"Oh Donna, believe me when I say I know how lonely that feels. I have always been grateful to have you as a friend, but never more than at this very instant."

" _Is it time for a hug?_ " Donna asked, very excitedly.

"Indeed, I believe it is," Sadie said, and the two embraced. Sadie's heart felt lighter than she ever remembered. 

This was it. She was not bewitched or bedeviled with afflictions. Her parents were wrong to have sent her away. For the first time, she could look back on her life as a life actually  _lived_  rather than... well, best leave it there, actually. 

She had reclaimed her life, she reaffirmed to herself. That was what was important. Nothing else mattered now.

When she looked up, however, she immediately saw that she was mistaken. Something else mattered very much indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from ["You Meet the Nicest People in Your Dreams" by Fats Waller.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJQSBai3PUAT)


	8. "I'm beginning to see the light"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Suggested listening.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bfW7cUtgXA)

“Oh, hello, yes, excuse me,” Frank heard a voice from behind him say. He turned around and his eyes widened 

Standing before him was simply the loveliest creature he had ever seen. Her hair was… her eyes shone with… her dress was… no, that wasn’t a dress. Her… garment reflected the low light of the ballroom with a splash of color that made everything else around seem dull. Even his punch, bright red just moments ago, was suddenly sepia-toned in comparison to… well, to _her._ He drained his the now _especially_ distasteful contents of his glass in an effort to fortify himself.

It didn’t work. He glanced back, and confirmed that she was still just as beautiful as she had been a moment ago, if not _even more so_. He fixed his eyes on her face. He felt he could possibly, just possibly, isolate only her nose, and concentrate on that. It was, after all, the cutest nose that had ever been breathed into existence anywhere, but it was merely a nose. If he could concentrate only on the nose, he could almost stand to look at her.

Moments passed, and Sadie quirked a smile. Frank realized he was staring. At her nose. He tried to glance anywhere else, but found he couldn’t look away. But he also could not keep staring! He was being impolite! The last thing he wanted on this entire planet was to offend this wonder of a woman.

He closed his eyes and drew a terrified breath. _Oh, Lord_ , he began.

Frank was no longer the praying sort. He knew exactly how much power it held, having wielded it in service of the Church many a time. And yet, in this time of trouble, he turned his inner voice outward. _Let me open my eyes and have her still be there. Grant me the strength to say something. Please, oh please, oh please,_ he whispered in secret, _let her be real._

“Let who be real?” the enchanting voice said. _Damn,_ Frank thought, and then immediately chided himself for cursing in front of a lady. _Couldn’t keep it under your hat, not even this once, huh, Omnipotent Being I_ No Longer Trust _?_

“You mean me?” she asked. “I assure you I am real, and I am willing to prove it to you. I know how distressing it can be to doubt one’s own eyes, but I assure you, I am real _and_ corporeal. In fact, I am real, corporeal, and _thirsty_."

A moment passed. Frank's eyes were still squeezed shut. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to drink, would you?" the woman said. "Only, I saw you over here with that glass and that flask, and I thought, 'There's a fellow who knows where his booze is!'”

Frank peeked open one eye. She was still there. His heart sang in thanks to any deities or universal powers that might be listening. _But not you, you big tattletale,_ he clarified. He squeezed both eyes shut, took a bracing breath, and opened them to gaze once more at this entrancing woman.

“Why hello there, my darling boy!” she said. “You mastered the ‘opening both eyes’ trick _very_ well.” From anyone else it would have been dripping with sarcasm, but her words were full of earnest kindness. “May I ask to whom I am speaking?” she asked. Frank gathered what was left of his wits and steeled himself to speak. 

“Frank Doyle, at your service,” he said, taking a bit of a bow.

“Short for Franklin, I presume?” she said.

“Probably,” Frank said, a little flatly. “Short for something, most likely.”

“And have you a middle name, Mister Franklin or Frances or Frankfurter Doyle?”

“Not that I know of,” he said. “I left home when I was young and never quite got the chance to ask about it, Miss…?”

“Oh, how very rude of me! I _do_ apologize. I am Miss Sadie Parker, of the Park Slope Parkers, and I am very much obliged.” Sadie held out her hand to shake. Frank stared at it for a few seconds before his brain noted the importance of touching Miss Parker as soon as possible. It took a further few seconds to bring his own hand up, and, feeling as if he were a tiny man piloting an enormous marionette the entire time, slowly bring her hand to his lips.

His heart was about to beat out of his chest. He was no stranger to supernatural danger, and though he may be terrified, he was never one to flinch before demonkind. But this was danger of an altogether different sort.

He noted with surprise that he was rather enjoying himself.

“Heya there,” a gruff voice said from behind. “Gene Krupa here. How’s it swingin’, folks?”

Frank looked up and blinked several times, surprised out of his rapturous stupor. “Oh, you know. How it normally swings, I suppose?” Frank said.

“Frank, you are forgetting that we are in a _jazz joint_ ,” Sadie said in a stage whisper. “This is how they do things here.”

“Is it, my dear? I had no idea,” Frank said. Turning to the man, he said, “I say, Mr. Krupa, it does swing jauntily! With _great aplomb_!”

“Yes, we are having simply the swingingest of times,” Sadie said. “We certainly have a bounce in our steps this evening. Our hearts are practically jitterbugging in unison.” Frank met Sadie’s eyes. They smiled secretly at each other, and Frank found the hand holding his empty punch glass beginning to rise.

“Oohh!” Sadie exclaimed, looking back at Gene. “You were on the stage earlier! You played the drums ever so cunningly!”

“Yeah, I hit the skins here at the Savoy from time to time when ol’ Chickie ain’t feeling so hot. You folks chose a good night, though, and not just because I’m playin’!” Gene said.

“Oh really?” asked Sadie. “Why’s that?”

“Whitey booked us a new swinging group nobody’s ever heard before this side of the pond! It’s a sister act, a trio, all the way from Greece!” Gene leaned in, conspiratorially. “Personally, I’m reservin’ judgment, though. It’s tough to best Ella, Our Lady of the Swing, when she’s having a good night. And, boy oh boy, is she having a good night! Can I offer either of youse a smoke?” Gene pulled out a carton of Patriot Brand Cigarettes™.

“Ah, I’m afraid I do not smoke,” Frank said. “I have breathed enough sulfurous fumes from hellfire demons in my day to put me off smoking for life. Perhaps Miss Parker would enjoy one?”

“Really, darling, call me Sadie,” Sadie said, laying a hand on Frank’s arm. Frank suppressed a shiver, and this time it wasn’t from fear. “Mr. Krupa, I am afraid I only use a cigarette holder for dramatic effect. The gestures you can make!” Sadie waved her hands, miming holding a cigarette holder. Frank, once more, could not take his eyes off them. “My vice of choice is liquor, of course, but in that area it appears that we have a bit of an _emergency situation_.”

The reminder was so startling Frank actually looked away from Sadie’s hands (and face and mouth and nose and lips). He glanced once more into his empty punch glass, then his empty flask, and finally the empty punch bowl in front of him.

“I knew something disastrous would happen,” he said. “No evening could possibly be going this perfectly. And, as you can see, disaster has _indeed struck_. There is nothing to drink anywhere in this establishment.” Although he kept a smile on his face, he felt as though he were going to cry. Frank wanted nothing in the world more than to pour Sadie a drink.

“Oh, my darling brave man,” Sadie said with a sad smile, looking deeply into his eyes, “smiling in the face of the most dreadful adversity. Whatever shall we do?”

“I honestly haven’t the foggiest, my dear,” Frank said. “I live my life in fear, every moment, but never more than _this very moment_ , the moment when I run out of liquor in the face of the most beautiful being I have ever seen. I am absolutely terrified that I have run out of ideas and am rapidly sobering up.”

"Oh my! We mustn't have that!" Sadie said. "I am myself already quite parched, and if _both_ of us were to sink to the depths of sobriety... Why, the thought is almost too much to bear!"

“Tell ya what,” Gene Krupa said. Both Frank and Sadie looked startled that he was still standing there. “Miss Ella and I were planning to skip the first few songs of the guest set. I’m in the mood for some Workjuice Coffee,” he wiggled his eyebrows conspiratorially, “(who am I kidding, I’m always in the mood for some Workjuice Coffee) and we oughta swing by somewhere and bring you something.”

“That was an impressive piece of verbal rhythm, Mr. Krupa!” Sadie said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met someone who could speak in such clear parentheticals!”

“You haven’t heard Ella really scat, then,” Gene said.

“This coffee you mentioned,” Frank said, getting back to the matter at hand, “it wouldn’t happen to be _Irish_ coffee, would it?”

“No way, man!” Gene said. “Workjuice Coffee is as all-American as ma’s apple pie and hot jazz!”

“Well, phooey,” said Sadie. “I was going to ask for mine extra Irish and coffee-free.”

“No, you see, we were planning to walk right past the liquor store. Miss Ella and I can pick you up something nice. She mentioned she owes this fella a drink anyway.”

“Oh?” Sadie raised her eyebrows. “Frank Doyle is consorting with the jazz elite?” She winked, scandalously.

“Not that kind of consorting, my dear,” Frank said, trying to communicate that the rest of the world meant less than nothing when compared for even a moment of Sadie’s presence. “I merely shared my admiration for her singing prowess, as well as a small amount of my previously plentiful liquor.”

“Well, there ya go then,” Gene said, clapping Frank on the shoulder. “She does owe you a drink, buddy. Just lemme find her, and we’ll be back in a jiff. Bada bing bada bang, ba-diddly boom, Krupa out!”

As Gene walked off, Sadie turned to Frank. “Darling, just how long do you think a jiff is, really?”

“Well, that all depends on what timescale you’re using, my dear.” Frank withdrew a surprisingly large and ornate pocket watch from his pocket. “For instance, I would say that a jiff is probably longer than two shakes of a lamb’s tail, but hopefully not quite as long as it takes for the cows to come home.” He fiddled with some of the knobs. “Come to think of it, why are so many measurements of time livestock-related?” The watch popped open.

“It’s ten minutes to midnight now, and if we begin timing them, we shall understand exactly how long a jiff is in a measure we all accept: seconds running into minutes running into hours!”

“Oh, my dear, I could listen to you talk time for _all of it_ ,” Sadie said.

“And if you so desired, I would, too,” Frank said. He had never meant anything more in his life. “I would recite every second to you from now until eternity.” Once more his hand rose of its own accord.

Frank saw Sadie suddenly glance at her own hand, redirecting it to pat at her hair. Frank used the opportunity to straighten his bow tie. “Franklin Timepiece Doyle,” Sadie said, “I believe this could be the beginning of a beautiful…”

Her words were cut off however, by a clamor on the second stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, hepcats and jitterbugs!” The announcer’s voice rang out across the crowd. “I have the distinct honor of introducing this evening’s second act! All the way from Athens, Greece, here they are! The Siren Sisters!”

Before the applause even died down, the trio began to sing, and Frank felt himself getting…

“Why, Frank, you’ve gone pale!” he heard Sadie say, her voice worried. “Would you like me to…”

Her voice turned to static noise and his vision tunneled down to a pinprick. The last thing he fixed his eyes upon were the two red flowers pinned in her hair. As he slipped further down, he found himself feeling grateful that they were the last thing he’d ever see. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from ["I'm Beginning to See the Light" by Ella Fitzgerald.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bfW7cUtgXA)


	9. "I've got the Heebie Jeebie Blues"

“Why, Frank! You’ve gone pale!” Sadie said, and Frank stumbled. She reached for his arm, trying to steady him. “Would you like me to...” Honestly, she wasn't sure what to say next, as her only idea involved offering him a drink, which was, as had been previously established, impossible. There was simply none to be had.

Sadie watched as Frank's eyes became glassy and unfocused, and supported him as best she could as he slumped to the floor.

"Oh, Frank, oh _Frank_ ," she whispered, crouched toward him, eyes stinging. "Oh my darling." The music had turned shrill and itchy, but Sadie was too busy fluttering her hands over Frank's face (and his tie, and his lapels, and his hands, anywhere she could touch, really) to notice. She sat down and pulled his head into her lap.

It did not seem strange to her that she should feel so strongly about a man she had met mere minutes before. Had she taken the time to consider it, it would only have seemed strange that she had not known Frank all her life. The moment she had met his gaze, something in her soul had gone clink.  

Sadie had had admirers before, of course, and she had even admired some back. But this, this was different. Frank was a fine bourbon in a sea of club soda. When he spoke, she drank his words as though they were gin. And his eyes... Meeting his gaze was like peering into a highball glass that never went dry. 

Of course she did not take the time to consider all this. Frank was in distress; she had very little time for anything else. 

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a fluttering. Harvey the ghostly Pterodactyl looked to be trying to get her attention. 

"What is it, boy?" Sadie said, "is someone stuck in a well? I'm afraid I can't help you. I must stay right here." She gestured at Frank, still in her lap.

Harvey screeched in frustration. He flew back to alight on Pterodactyl Jones, who seemed to be having similar trouble to Frank. Jones was also on the floor, though he had his face turned toward the stage. 

"Why, your fellow has gone all glass-eyed and slumpy, just as mine has," Sadie said to Harvey. She took a moment to glance about the room. In fact, most everybody was similarly afflicted. Hundreds of people had keeled over or slumped where they stood. The dance floor was littered with bodies. She and Harvey seemed to be the only two beings who had remained upright, except...

"Donna!" Sadie called. "Donna, darling! I'm so glad to see you are all right." Donna came over, clutching her new friend Dave's head to her chest. 

"Yes, of course I'm all right, I'm a vampire," Donna said. She sounded like she was trying not to be exasperated. "Siren song has no effect on us."

"Oh so that is what this is all about!" exclaimed Sadie. "This group is _not_ just a sister act from Greece, but also a trio of horrible monsters hellbent on destruction!" Sadie was excited to have solved the Mystery of the Frozen Dancers (a TV show which she would _not_ watch). "How might I go about getting Frank back to normal?"

Donna considered for a moment. "I could turn him into a vampire."

Sadie paused and gazed seriously at her friend, then looked down at Frank. "...perhaps another time, Donna, when we've all had the chance to discuss it properly."

"Suit yourself," Donna said. "Then there's nothing for it unless we can get those creatures to stop singing. I'm afraid most mortals are severely afflicted by siren song. I'm surprised nobody's-" Donna paused, then pointed, "Oh, yes, look! It's begun!"

The people nearest to the stage had gotten up and clumped up in a group in front, creating a half circle of dance floor. They began clapping in time to the pitchy music still emanating from the band stand. From out of the clump one couple came dancing out, blazingly fast. The lead threw the follow back over his shoulder, whipped around, and spun her into a tight swingout. They were moving almost too fast to keep track.

"Donna, are they in danger?" Sadie asked. 

"Not really," Donna said. "Or, well, no more danger than they were before. That's Frankie and Willamae. They're pros: some of the best Lindy hoppers around. They can keep this up for a while before the sirens tire them out enough to eat them." Willamae now pulled Frankie over her shoulder and twirled around until he caught her up into another swingout. "I'd be more worried about the folks who can't dance," Donna said. "They're most likely to be the first course!"

From his place still clutched to her bosom, Dave whimpered.

"Yes, that's right. Dave here is in a bad way; I'm going to have to take him outside. It turns out he's a werewolf, so his ears are extra sensitive."

"Oh, but Donna, I don't know whether or not Frank can dance! Whatever shall we do? If he is eaten I shall be  _very_  distressed." 

"Tell you what," Donna said. "Why don't you tie him and Jonesy together and have Harvey keep an eye on them. They shouldn't be able to move any closer to the sirens if they're tied up, and we can go outside to regroup." 

"Donna, you are nothing short of a tactical genius! I am so lucky to have you as a friend," Sadie exclaimed, untying her sash. She and Donna propped Frank and Jones together and bound them to each other while Dave sat and rocked with his fingers pressed to his ears and his eyes screwed shut.

"Now, Harvey," Sadie said. "You understand your role, correct? If Frank and PJ show any signs of moving closer to the stage, you come and get us at once. We will be just outside, trying to come up with a plan." Harvey nodded vehemently. She was certain he wouldn't let her down. 

* * *

Once they got outside, Sadie took a very deep breath. As she let it out, she let herself sink down against the side of the wall and put her face in her hands. _I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do... Oh, Frank,_ she thought, a tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek.

"Sadie!" Donna exclaimed. "Are you all right? This really isn't like you at all!"

"Donna, you know I love you, don't you?" Sadie, asked, suddenly exhausted all over again.

"Yes," Donna said, a little absently. She was dividing her attention between Sadie and Dave, who was clearly no longer in pain (but perhaps seemed like he missed being clutched to the bosom of a beautiful woman).

"Then please be sure to take this in the manner in which it is intended: you no longer have any idea what I am like." Donna looked taken aback, but Sadie pressed on. "No, I'm serious. This is the first time we've seen each other in nearly two years, Donna! I was away in that dreadful place for so long and I am afraid," Sadie's throat closed so suddenly she nearly choked on her words. "I am afraid I am no longer the Sadie you once knew."

"Oh, Sadie, that's not true at all!" Donna said, drawing Sadie into a hug. Sadie let out a shuddering breath.

"Isn't it though?" Sadie said. "Donna, until this very evening I had been overcome with bleakness. I was all alone in the world: the only one who could truly talk to spirits and yet spirits wanted little to do with me after what happened to my grandparents. My family sent me away, I was apart from you. I had no one on whom to rely. I am afraid loneliness has made me quite a different Sadie than the one you knew two years hence."

"Sadie Knickerhouse Parker, look at me," Donna said, taking her by the shoulders. "I know your parents tried to convince you that everything you saw was a hallucination. I know they sent you away. I know it was awful. But you are a _Parker woman_ , and you" (Donna poked her friend dead in the chest to punctuate the point) "are not" (poke) "alone" (poke).

Sadie looked up at her with wet eyes. "I know that I'm lucky to count you as my friend, Donna, but..."

"Sadie," Donna said with all seriousness, "I am much more than that. I already told you I'm a vampire now. While you've been gone, I've been boning up on the supernatural. I'm the local vampire council's Official Librarian."

Sadie raised her eyebrows. "Donna, I had no idea!"

Donna nodded. " _They_ think it's an introductory-level position, but they have _no idea_ the power I have." She laughed, a little giddy. "You don't just have my friendship Sadie, you also have my exhaustive knowledge of the supernatural achieved through extensive archival research. I'm a walking Heebie Jeebie Encyclopedia!"

"Oh, Donna, that is wonderful! Well done you," Sadie said, wiping her nose on her sleeve. _Sorry, Grandmother._ No, wait. That wasn't right.  _It was Mother who demanded the apologies._ _Grandmother always said clothes were for wearing,_ she thought to herself, and smiled.

"Thank you. But it was really due to you that I decided to become a vampire."

"Oh yes?" Sadie asked.

"I'll tell you about it later," Donna said. "Right now I really ought to check on Dave. His poor ears were nearly bleeding inside."

Sadie nodded. She did feel better. She still had no plan to rescue Frank, but at she had the full weight of Donna at her back, and that was certainly nothing to sneeze at.

"Now, what are we to do about saving my... my Frank?" Sadie asked. "We must have a plan."

* * *

 

Five minutes later, Sadie and Donna still did not have a plan. Sadie had insisted Donna tell her everything she knew about sirens, which was unfortunately not much. 

“So you’re telling me,” Sadie summed up, “that the Sirens are a bunch of mythical beings from an island near Greece known for causing passing ships to batter themselves against the rocky shore and/or cliff faces. They do this by singing such _bedeviling_ songs that passing sailors feel compelled to sail towards them. They may or may not have wings, there may be as many as five of them (though there are very clearly three inside at this very moment), and that their song, if unchecked, will probably cause all of the souls inside the ballroom _this very instant_ to somehow perish. Am I remembering everything correctly?”

“Yes,” Donna said.

“And now, the very _crux_ of the issue,” Sadie said. “How, pray tell, might we defeat them? How might we save the people in the ballroom? Or, well,” Sadie amended, “ _one_ person. The rest would just be gravy!”

“The bad news is you really can’t,” Donna said. “The best and only defense is to never have heard the siren song in the first place. Sailors of old used to lash themselves to the masts of their ships and fill their ears with wax when they approached the island.”

“Why, Donna!” Sadie said, “is that why you had me tie Pterodactyl Jones and my darling Frank together?”

“Yes,” Donna said. “I figured it would take them a long time to figure out how to run a three-legged race over to the main dance floor if they were lashed together.”

“Right. So. We must turn back time to make sure the sirens never took the stage. No! We must both go in there manhandle the two gentlemen and drag them outside. No! We must enlist the help of my very favorite werewolf, the nearly handsome Mr. Dave, to go in there and remove Frank and Jonesey from the interior of the ballroom. Mr. Dave! You look to be a man who could do upwards of 50 push ups at a time. Would you be so kind as to go retrieve our gentlemen?”

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Dave spoke up, “but I can’t set foot in that ballroom while that racket is going on. It makes my brains feel like they’re leaking out my ears! It was only thanks to Miss Donna here that I have any brains left at all.”

“Well,” Sadie said, “I suppose you are still my favorite werewolf, but that’s only because I do not know any others. _Oooh!_ That must mean you are my least favorite as well. Mr. Dave, I regret to inform you that you are my very least favorite werewolf I know.”

“Fair,” Dave said.

“What are we going to do, Donna? Where can we procure earplugs at this time of night?” Sadie asked, a little desperately. _If only I had a drink to clear my head,_ she thought.

“Did somebody ask for earplugs?” a man said, coming around the corner. “I’ve got plenty’a ear plugs. What’s the problem, don’t like the band?”

“Why, Mr. Krupa!!” Sadie exclaimed. “Miss Ella! And is that a bottle of gin? Oh, you have no idea how happy I am to see you!”

“Wow, you must need earplugs pretty bad,” Krupa said.

“I’m sorry, dear, I was speaking to the gin. But also, yes, we do need those earplugs.”

As Sadie took a drink of the marvelous, marvelous gin, she began to feel as though perhaps everything would be all right after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from ["Heebie Jeebies" by The Boswell Sisters.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWwLfTjyD_A)


	10. "You control my very soul, you've got me voodoo'd."

Frank suddenly awoke to the sound of… nothing. He focused his eyes of his own free will for the first time in what felt like ages and saw the most stunningly beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes upon. His soul sang.

Sadie was staring down at him with a slight wrinkle to her brow. He wished more than anything in the world to kiss it away and tell it never to return, but he wasn’t yet sure he could move. Besides, that might be a bit forward. Moreover, he appeared to be tied to…

“PJ!” he said, his voice sounding far too loud to his own blocked ears. 

Jones looked over at him, his own ears stopped up with what looked like wax, clearly as confused as Frank was. It was a little difficult to see his face, though, as Harvey appeared to be snuggling his protofeather-covered face as close to Jones's face as possible.

Frank saw Jones say something that may have been “Frank, what’s going on?” before Frank cut him off by gesturing at his own ears. “I’m no lip-reader, Jonesey, but I assure you I have no idea,” Frank said, mostly to himself.

Sadie’s mouth made motions that may have been “Oh, Frank,” and she smiled so winsomely. Frank noted that she didn’t have any wax in her ears, and looked at her with a question written on his face.

She waved her hands as though to dismiss it. “Now,” her body language seemed to say, and she pointed first at Frank, then at Jones, and mimed writing on a pad with her eyebrows raised questioningly.

Frank shrugged and shook his head, but Jones pushed Harvey away briefly to fish in his trench coat’s hidden pockets. He came up, triumphant, with a half-full notebook. He turned to a page that was mostly blank, except for the word DAMES, written over several times and underlined twice.

Sadie held out her hand for the notebook, then began to write. _You have both been under the spell of siren song_ , read the page. _You have wax earplugs in your ears; do not try to remove them. We are going to try to talk with the monsters._

Jones looked perplexed. Harvey had moved to his shoulders and was grooming his hair with tiny little claw fingers. Frank immediately sat up (even if it pained him to move from Sadie’s lap) and declared, “I’m going with you!”

Sadie quirked an eyebrow at him, looked down at her pad of paper as if to write something, changed her mind, and smiled. She stood up and took his hand to help him up.

Neither of them let go as they walked, hand in hand, toward the stage.

* * *

The Siren Sisters clearly saw them as they approached. The dancers were still in doing their frenzied Lindy hop, one couple at a time. A few of them appeared to be flagging, though. Disaster could not be far behind.

Sadie walked right up to the middle Siren and tapped her on the shoulder. Frank couldn’t hear what she said, but he assumed she took the exact right tone of polite firmness. He looked at her, then down at his hand, still enveloped in hers, and then smiled in gratitude.

The Siren, for her part, did not break her song. She turned around, snarled a bit at Sadie, ( _Snarling? At SADIE?_ Frank thought. It did not seem like he could coexist in a world with a creature who would do such a thing) and turned back to her rapt audience of jitterbuggers. 

Sadie tapped once more, put her hands on her hips, and began tapping her foot. _Not in rhythm, I don’t think,_ thought Frank. _It looks as though her patience is being tried instead. Woe be unto any creature..._

Frank’s train of thought was derailed by movement across the room. Ella Fitzgerald, whose ears were just as stoppered as his own, were setting up on the opposite bandstand. He could see Gene Krupa shoving earplugs into the ears of a select few musicians. Sadie waved frantically at Donna, who had snuck up to the sound engineer’s booth. Donna yanked an important-looking cord, which cut power to the microphone the Siren Sisters had been using.

 _I mean, probably,_ Frank thought to himself. _Boy, this action would be easier to follow if I could hear._

Sadie began to speak to assuage the crowd, who were looking around in a daze. Frank assumed she struck a tone that was the exact balance of calm, collected, and authoritative.

 _And she has chosen to hold_ my _hand,_ he thought to himself, blushing just a bit. Life truly didn’t get any better than this. Well, he could be in a situation that didn’t require wax earplugs, and he could have a drink in his hand, he supposed. But barring that, life didn’t get any better than this.

The Siren Sisters, for their part, were looking confused. The lead Siren Sister began to gesture toward her ears and make complicated shapes with her hands.

Sadie paid attention, and said something that looked like it was both respectful but also expressed confusion. _Clever Sadie,_ Frank thought. _Oh, here comes Jonesey,_ he thought. _Perhaps Jonesey will have some answers._

Jones’s hands made some complicated shapes at the Siren, who made complicated shapes back.

Were… were they speaking sign language to each other? Frank looked at Sadie, who seemed to come to the same conclusion. She wrote, _Are the Sirens deaf?_ on the pad, and held it up to Jones. Jones nodded.

 _Well, how’s that for dramatic irony?_ Frank asked. He wished he had a drink with which to toast to that. But he didn’t have a drink, and further, he didn’t want to use any hand for anything other than holding Sadie’s at the moment. _FURTHER IRONY,_ Frank thought to himself. He smiled to himself, imagining Jonesey making a clever analogy involving a dry cleaner.

While Frank was wishing for a drink, Sadie was busy making sense of the situation. She gave Frank the pad to hold (her left hand was still holding his right, after all).  _You speak siren sign language?_ Sadie wrote. Frank held the pad up so Jones could read it. Jones nodded, and gestured for the pad of paper.

 _They just call it sign language,_ Jones wrote, _and they know some of the American version_. Sadie nodded, and gestured for the pad back.

 _You know I can hear you,_ Sadie wrote, _you needn’t write everything down._

“Okay,” Jones said, or something that looked very like that to Frank’s eyes. _So, Clever Sadie,_ Frank thought, _tell us the plan._

 _Jones,_ Sadie wrote, _can you please ask them to cease their singing and leave this place at once?_

Jones began signing the message. The sirens nodded, nodded, and then looked like they were laughing. They began signing back. Jones began translating for Sadie. Frank didn’t catch all of it, reading lips as he was, but he did see that one of them had called Sadie a “foolish woman,” (“Never, my dear,” Frank murmured, and Sadie caught his eye and smiled briefly.) Sadie began to write a return message back.

 _Well,_ thought Frank, _this is surely the_ least _efficient way to hold a conversation. First Sadie writes a message, then PJ translates, then the Sirens sign back a response, then PJ speaks the response out loud, which, let’s review, is for Sadie’s benefit only. Then we repeat the process all over again?_

 _Talk about a game of telephone!_ he thought. _Well, less a “game” and more “arguing for our lives,” but the core concept is the same._ He watched Sadie, Jones, and the Sirens go through a couple more turns of conversation, and asked himself what kind of phones were available for the deaf. _Lucky for us we’re not experiencing this in an aurally-based medium!_ he exclaimed to himself.

A couple more turns of the conversation, and as best as Frank could understand, the Sirens did not want to stop singing and leave Harlem to its own devices. They had moved to “Who are you to try to stop us?” sort of body language, at least.

 _Boy, I sure would enjoy this better with a drink in hand,_ he thought. That was literally always true, though, so it was an inefficient measure at how good a time he was having. He remembered that he was still holding Sadie’s hand, though, and that made it much, much better.

The conversation seemed to have reached a break, so Frank took the opportunity to sneak a quick kiss on one of Sadie’s knuckles. Sadie smiled indulgently back at him. He caught sight of what she was writing. 

 _Trial by combat it is to be, then,_ she had written for Jones to translate.

“Wait,” Frank said out loud. “I would prefer no combat whatsoever!”

Sadie looked at him indulgently, and laid a kiss on his knuckle. She wrote something in the notebook and gave it to him to read.

“Battle of the Bands,” he read aloud. “Well! That’s a capital idea, probably. You know I cannot play an instrument? I will be of no help to you,” he said.

Sadie held his gaze and shook her head, smiling. She pointed toward the other stage, where Gene Krupa, Ella Fitzgerald, and the rest of the musicians had finished warming up.

“Ah, yes, best to leave it to the professionals,” Frank said.

Sadie smiled, and leaned in to him. Frank’s eyes fluttered closed and his lips parted slightly.

Sadie pulled the wax from his ear. “Frank, darling, we are to have a personal concert played by jazz royalty,” Sadie whispered, her lips just brushing his ear. “Also, against my better judgment, I have saved you a quarter of a bottle of gin.”

“Sadie,” Frank said, eyes still closed, “That is, without a doubt, the best news I have ever heard.” He opened his eyes when he felt a bottle in his hand. Sadie pressed a quick kiss to his temple, and stood up. She signaled Donna to bring back power to the microphone. Frank took a deep gulp of gin, and immediately felt even better. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said “and, oh what was that the man said before, jittercats and hepbugs? No, that’s not right. Let us not get bogged down in details.”

Frank passed the gin back to Sadie, even though he was far from through with it. She took a swig, and continued. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce the first ever Siren-Savoy Battle of the Bands! Over there on that bandstand, we have the Savoy house band, featuring Ella Fitzgerald on vocals and Gene Krupa on drums. Over here we have the Siren Sisters, who, as you have already experienced, are monsters bent on hypnotic destruction. They will trade off musical numbers. I implore you to dance as hard as you can to the music that moves you the most.”

Sadie paused to take another drink. Frank squeezed her hand. “If the Savoy band wins, the Sirens have promised to go back to their island and never bother us again. If the Sirens win, we forfeit our souls to their eternal embrace. May the best band win! Hopefully, the one that won’t kill us!”

At that cue, Gene Krupa broke into a driving drumbeat. Ella took a deep breath and hit a bending high note. She scatted up and down the scale, and then, just as the Sirens were drawing a breath, the horns began to blow.

It really was no contest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What does Ella sound like when she's dueling all out with The Siren Sisters? Maybe something like [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujniG7kQYcc&index=68&list=PL3pctQbN4IivQdc47gPha0pt4Hm_OA58F). Chapter title comes from ["You've Got Me Vodoo'd" by Louis Armstrong.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXBRbAicB8U)


	11. “Drink up with me now, forget all about / the pressure of days, do what I say”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Content warning for this chapter: there is a description of a panic attack.)

“You know, this _jazz music_ might really have something to it,” Frank said. Sadie looked down at their hands, which were still clasped together, and smiled indulgently. Having shooed the Sirens out the back exit, Donna, Jones, Sadie, and Frank had taken a seat near the bandstand to listen to the band finish out the set. Harvey perched on Gene Krupa’s high hat, snapping playfully at his drumsticks. Krupa didn’t seem distracted by this ghostly diversion.

“You mean to say that you just saw, with your very own eyes, and heard, eventually, with your very own ears, a trio of monsters defeated by the very power of jazz music and furious Lindy hopping,” Donna said, “and you have come to the conclusion that there just _might_ be something to it?”

“Yes,” Frank said. “I feel I am on the very _cusp_ of understanding what all the fuss is about.”

“You are in the _Savoy_ ,” Donna said, shaking her head. She turned to face Sadie. “Are you _sure_ about him?” Donna asked.

“Mmm, quite,” Sadie said, rubbing her thumb delicately across Frank’s knuckles. She glanced up as a man with a crate approached their table. “Why Donna, speaking of people about whom a friend must ask the other if she is sure, I do believe I see Mr. Dave!”

“Hello, Sadie, Miss Donna,” Dave said, setting the crate down on the table. “I see you got rid of the monsters and made some new friends. I am only sorry I was in no state to help you fight them off.”

“Now, Mr. Dave, don’t be silly! Of course you couldn’t help, your ears are far too sensitive to be blocked with only wax,” Sadie said. “Also, as I told you before, you were playing an absolutely crucial role in this plan! And I see you have delivered upon it marvelously!” Sadie squeezed Frank’s hand before letting it go to root around in her purse. “Now where did I put the crowbar, ah! Aha! Here we go!”

Sadie levered open the crate and almost cooed with delight.

“Ah, look at them all! Resting like angels.” She sighed. Six bottles twinkled up at her.

“Why, is that a full case of single-malt scotch?!” Frank asked, bolting out of his seat. “Hi there, my good fellow, Frank Doyle, pleased to make your acquaintance.” Frank reached in for a hand shake and began pumping Dave’s hand enthusiastically. “May I offer you a seat at this table for as long as you will allow me to drink your liquor?”

“Oh Frank,” Sadie chuckled. “It is _our_ liquor. To the victors go the spoils and all that.”

“Who is this Victor or multiple Victors?” Frank demanded. “I will take him, or them, on the field of battle!”

“Frank, no,” Sadie said, placing a calming hand on his arm. “The winners,” she gestured around at the assembled party, “were we.”

“Now then,” she said, “Frank, be a dear and pass out these bottles while I get a head start on mine.” Sadie winked at Frank and took a swig. Frank held her gaze and seemed to trip over his own feet in his haste to get to the crate.

Sadie watched Frank walk to the other side of the table, handing the bottles of scotch out to Donna, Jones, and Dave. Making sure he had kept one for himself, Sadie cleared her throat. “A toast!” she declared. “To evidence of light in the world, even on the darkest of nights. And to those with whom we choose to share it.”

“Hear, hear!” said Donna. There was a general murmur of agreement from the gentlemen, and everyone leaned in to click their bottles together. Frank, Sadie was disheartened to note, was just out of reach on the other side of the table. She had to make due with winking and lifting her glass to him. He answered in kind.

After a few moments of cheerful conversation with Donna, Sadie glanced up to find Frank once again at her elbow.

“Sadie darling,” Frank said, “this booze is the tops and this music is not half bad. But do you know what I think might be even more enjoyable?”

“Ooh, let me guess!” Sadie said. “A Ferris wheel! A gymnastics display! Trapeze artistry! Elephants! Cl-”

“You seem to be describing a big-top circus to a T,” Frank interrupted. “And that is most assuredly _not_ what I had in mind. I was thinking something much quieter with many fewer crowds. Some might even say _no_ crowds whatsoever.”

“I’m listening,” Sadie felt her voice reach a lower and more exciting pitch.

“Sadie Parker, will you grant me the absolute pleasure of walking you home this fine evening?”

Sadie considered. She was wearing her most comfortable shoes (which is to say, the heels were merely _dangerously_ high and had not yet reached the realm of _perilously_ so), and her grandmother’s kimono would keep her quite warm, even in the late winter chill.

“Franklin Perfect Gentleman Doyle, I believe I shall accompany you on your stroll to my house.”

* * *

If Sadie found herself clutching Frank’s arm a little tighter than was strictly necessary as they began their trek home, she supposed she could blame it on either the lingering snow or the extra bottle of scotch she had cradled against her chest.

“Awfully nice of them to insist that we take the final bottle of scotch, isn’t it?” Frank asked.

“Well, they didn’t insist as much as I decided not to leave it lonesome in the case all by itself. After all, there is no fair way to divide a bottle into fifths without a measuring device of some sort, possibly a siphon. Oh! No, a _funnel_. No, a flask. No, a _series_ of flasks! No, a graduated cylinder…” Sadie continued naming measuring instruments until a thought took her by surprise.

“Why Frank! If we successfully arrive at my house, then you will have to walk home all alone! Also, whatever will we do with this poor bottle of scotch?” she asked, gazing at him.

“Sadie, my dear, I believe we have become ensconced in a very common riddle or thought puzzle. A farmer, a wolf, and a chicken are all about to cross a river in a boat that can only handle two of them at a time.”

“I see. And I suppose the farmer cannot leave the chicken and wolf together?”

“Correct. As the story goes, one will surely eat the other.”

“Chickens and their horrible beaks! _Do they know no decency?_ ” Sadie growled.

“I’m sure I don’t know, darling,” Frank said. “Never was one for the rural life.”

“And in this strangely agrarian scenario,” Sadie said, “the river represents the distance between our houses, I suppose.”

“Certainly!” Frank said. “And this bottle of scotch will certainly not survive the trip between, which is why it simply must be left on the shore.”

“ _Franklin Dimplecheeks Doyle, listen to what you are saying!”_ Sadie said.

“Hm, you are correct, darling. Best to take this bottle with us on the trip between. If it doesn’t make it, it doesn’t make it and that is all there is to it.”

“Is it though? In this scenario, which one of us is the wolf and which the farmer?”

“Why, I hadn’t put that much thought into it. I suppose I feel a little wolfish when I look at you…”

“So that would make me the farmer?” Sadie said, incredulously. “I _barely_ know what a horse _looks like_. I would much rather be the wolf.”

“Very well then, you are the wolf and I the hapless farmer. This bottle of excellent scotch will be our chicken and we mustn’t leave it alone lest something terrible happen to it.”

Sadie glanced at him, mid-swig. He had noticed her taking a large gulp of the alcohol. She smiled and lowered the bottle.

“The most terrible thing would be to find it empty, of course. But to empty it ourselves? Why, darling, how wonderful. And, as you see, I have already begun!”

Almost without noticing it, they had arrived on Sadie’s doorstep.

“Well, Frank, we have arrived at my home. Shall we turn tail and cross the river to your place immediately?” Sadie asked. “Or would you care to come inside and warm yourself by the fire? You seem to be trembling.”

Frank caught her eye and held it. His breath was coming hard and fast, as though they had sprinted their way from Uptown.

“Sadie, I. I can’t… I can’t…” He began to sway slightly.

“Frank!” Sadie said and caught him as he began to slide his way down to her stoop, still trembling and panting. She looked around for any Sirens or other supernatural creatures that might be causing this distress, but couldn’t see anything. Frank had one hand to his chest; the other was loosening on hers.

Sadie allowed herself an instant of worry, and then took a deep breath. She placed her hand upon Frank’s cheek, and laced the fingers of her other hand through his. She lowered her face closer to his. He gazed up at her, pupils blown wide.

“Frank, my darling,” she said slowly, “you are safe. You are with me. I will not allow anything further to happen to you.”

Frank squeezed his eyes shut and struggled to draw a breath.

“That’s right, my darling,” Sadie said. “You just concentrate on breathing. You are safe. You are with me. I am here.”

Frank managed a deep and shuddering breath.

“That’s right, Frank,” Sadie said. “You are safe. You are with me. Stay here with me, and breathe.”

He gasped another breath in.

“I am so proud of you, Frank,” Sadie said. “You are doing a wonderful job. Breathe for me.”

Frank let out a timorous breath, slowly. His hands weren’t trembling quite so much any more. He raised a hand to cup her hand on his cheek.

“Frank darling, stay here for just a little longer. Breathe.”

“Sadie, I… I…”

“Shhhhh, hush my darling. No need to talk yet. Just breathe for me.” Frank took another few deep breaths. “You’re doing wonderfully.” Sadie smiled down at him. Frank took several more breaths. They were beginning to come normally again.

“My darling, I am sure that was terrifying, but you must remember that it was not directly dangerous. Whenever I am here, you will not be in danger.”

Frank gazed up at her, smiling sadly. He looked as though he couldn't quite believe it, but wished it were true.

"Oh, Frank," Sadie breathed. "Come inside with me. Please." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from["Between the Bars" by Madeleine Peyroux](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FktNzLg_te4).


	12. “He says, ‘Solid,’ he says, meaning all my charms”

Frank allowed himself to be guided into a very large room with many chairs, Sadie’s arm supporting his. Sadie settled him into the most comfortable chair in which he had ever had the pleasure of sitting, and he watched as she crossed to the bar to pour out two glasses of scotch. As she crossed back over to perch on the arm of his chair, Frank reached out to take one of the glasses.

“Oh, no, darling, these are both for me!” Sadie said, tapping her glasses together. They made a lovely sound. “I only have two hands! We’ll see about getting you one as well just as soon as we have warmed up a bit.”

Sadie kicked off her shoes and settled in on the ample arm. She took a prolonged sip of scotch, closing her eyes. Frank had never seen anything more perfect in all his life.

Not that he’d had much of an opportunity to appreciate beauty over the past decade, he supposed. Not much time for that, what with all the demonslaying and exorcisms and… his heart began to race.

Sadie, having finished one of her glasses of scotch, put it aside on the end table and brought her hand up to rest on his shoulder.

“Now Frank, none of that. We’ll never get any liquor in you that way, and drinking alone is decidedly less fun!” Sadie said. “You wouldn’t leave me to that fate, now would you?”

Frank let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “No, Sadie, darling. That might be the worst possible outcome, and I have been many a ‘fate-worse-than-death’ situation."

“Oh, Frank, I don’t doubt it!” Sadie took another sip. “Now, where were we?”

“I believe, just before I had my extremely embarrassing spell on your front stoop-”

“ _Franklin Denial-of-the-Facts Doyle_ ,” Sadie said, “I will hear none of that, do you hear me? What you just went through was not embarrassing and it was nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Sadie,” Frank sighed, “I am so sorry-”

“That is another thing up with which I will not put!” Sadie said, waggling a finger in the air. “You have _nothing_ for which to apologize, my dear.”

“Sadie, darling,” Frank began, and then sighed. “Well, dear, the truth of it is that I have been terrified of _absolutely everything_ for as long as I can remember.”

“With good reason, I’m sure, dear!” Sadie said, taking a drink.

“Well, there was a spot of demon trouble here and there,” Frank said. “Which is to say _literally everywhere I went for nearly a decade_.”

“Oh, how terrible for you!” Sadie murmured.

“Well, yes and no,” Frank said. “It was all demon slaying all the time in the service of the Church. They fed me and clothed me and kept me in Holy Water, which was a blessing, I suppose.”

“Only literally,” Sadie said. “In every figurative sense of the word, it sounds more like a horrifying burden.”

“Oh, yes, that too,” Frank said, nodding vehemently. “But my point, Sadie dear, is that I have been terrified in every way it is possible for a man to be terrified: beset by boils, nearly drowned, set on fire, stabbed, blood boiled, cursed-”

“Double-cursed?” Sadie chimed in.

“Oh yes.”

“Not… not triple cursed!” Sadie ventured.

“Only the once.”

“Were you ever blinded?”

“Temporarily.”

“Branded?”

“Yes.” Frank rubbed his forearm near the elbow.

“Pierced?”  
  
“Well. Stabbed. As I said before,” Frank said.

“Skinned?”

“Only a little.”

“Deafened?”

“Why, just this evening, when you stuck wax in my ears! And also, yes, by demons as well. Many times. One of their favorite tricks, demons.”

“Have you ever,” Sadie said, in growing triumph, “been drawn and quartered, then had your quarters keel hauled, then had the keel of the ship run aground, then been eaten by mermaids and mermen with their horrible pointy teeth?”

Frank considered it for a moment. “You know, I don’t believe I ever have.”

“Well! That deserves a drink!” Sadie said, raising her now empty glass skyward. “I will be right back. Don’t you dare go anywhere.”

“Sadie, my dear, that brings me to my point. You see, I have been scared all my life…” Frank began.

“Yes, darling, you have said. Several times,” Sadie said, not unkindly, retrieving two martini glasses from behind the bar before opening a cupboard and leaning forward to rummage into its depths. “Please be assured that I believe you.”

“Yes, but that’s just it. I was scared… until I met you. This entire evening I was many things: enchanted, awestruck, _happy_. I felt _safe_ there, at the Savoy. Oh! And I was hypnotized by Sirens! You know, come to think of it, I wasn’t even scared then! No, I wasn’t fearful for a moment until I realized that it couldn’t last. That I would leave your company and this shining dream would all come crashing down around me.” Frank leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. He could hardly bear the thought even now.

“AHA!” Sadie said, triumphant. Frank looked at her questioningly. “My mother never discovered the false back on this cupboard, meaning…” Sadie pulled out a board and leaned in, hand questing. “Yes! There it is.” She held aloft a nearly full bottle of gin.

“Sadie, do wonders never cease?” Frank asked, looking up. Perhaps his deep existential dread could wait until after the gin.

“Let’s hope not,” Sadie said, pouring two glasses of gin. “How do you take your martini?”

“As dry as possible, Sadie. Think: the Sahara. Or, better yet, think ‘a world in which vermouth has never tainted gin at all,’” Frank said.

“A man after my own heart,” Sadie said, walking over to rejoin him. “But Frank, to address your previous point, I am afraid you are mistaken.”

“About what?” Frank asked.

“Oh, I intend to never be all alone in this world again. Now that I’ve found you, Franklin Delano Rigby Doyle, I do not intend to ever ever _ever_ let you go.”

“Well, I can surely drink to that,” Frank said. He took the martini she offered him.

From another room, strains of music began floating in. Frank and Sadie’s eyes locked as a singer began to weave a simple melody. Frank raised his glass.

“To you, Sadie, for scaring the monsters away,” Frank said.

Sadie raised her glass. “Oh, Frank, to you. For showing me I needn’t face them alone.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from ["He Says 'Murder,' He Says" by Betty Hutton.]()


	13. “I know why I've waited, know why I've been blue. I prayed each night for someone exactly like you.”

#  _*CLINK*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6KXHJ7ooFNU)

**Author's Note:**

> What began as a playlist and spiraled out of control. Let my gravestone read "She cared too much about merry married mediums before they were married."
> 
> If you recognize some of these head-canons as originally belonging to other people (especially [arsenikitty](http://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenikitty)), it's because they definitely do!  
>    
> [Here's the playlist.](http://8tracks.com/lalalalalawhy/dating-doyles-in-uptown-swing-downtown-doom)  
> [Here are the photos of my darling baby Doyles.](http://theshehulkproject.tumblr.com/post/110189865077/the-dating-doyles-in-uptown-swing-downtown-doom)  
>    
> [Mansion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mansion) created some amazing art for this fic. Please take a look [here](http://shannondapper.tumblr.com/post/125864724871/one-of-my-favorite-tah-fics-is-theshehulkprojects).


End file.
